Better Than a Bauble up the Arse
by littleornaments
Summary: While assembling the Christmas tree in the great hall, Draco and Hermione discuss the ins and outs of their anti-relationship. Safe to say, it's complicated. DM/HG, former one-shot, now something more.
1. Chapter 1

"If you aren't careful, I'll shove that bauble up your arse, Malfoy," Hermione threatens, nodding to the alpine-themed ball in his hand. She levitates the top half of the massive tree, that, though only half-assembled, looms impressively over their heads. Usually Flitwick does it but this year he's on a well-deserved vacation. That man seriously needs a rest. Hermione and Draco are his best senior students and naturally, he asked them to take on the responsibility.

"You know what they say about round objects in human orifices?" She questions, aligning the tree and locking it in place with a flick of her wand. She spins to stare him down. "They become stuck, and in that bauble's case," she looks down at it pointedly before meeting his eyes again, "they _break_."

"Granger," he sighs, "if you don't shut that sweet little mouth of yours, I'll be obliged to test out that theory in all of your own orifices." He sends her an unimpressed eyebrow raise.

Malfoy has a talent with eyebrows. He's mastered multiple different raised-eyebrow-expressions. After hours of staring in the mirror, of course, he can do surprised, perturbed, annoyed, unimpressed, bored, the list goes on.

She aims her wand between his eyebrows. "You're dead meat, Ferret." She glares down the line of her arm. Straight and sure.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, not so fast, bauble bitch." He stalks forward, flicking away her wand as if it were merely a wooden stick.

She spits her words through bared teeth. "I hope a thousand glass shards get irretrievably stuck in your sphincter, you _vile, rotting_ excuse of a human."

"Is that so?" He cocks his head, a smirk playing around his mouth. Leaning into her ear, lips brushing the uppermost tip, he whispers, "you weren't saying that last time my tongue was pressed into your cunt, were you, sweet pea?"

She flinches away from the disgusting truth of his words. It sears her every time. She feels ashamed, but also, aroused at his proximity. Merlin, she can't help it.

"That was a mistake." She looks away, redness climbing up her neck.

"Was every time a mistake? How many days have there been this year?" He makes a show of looking around himself at the boxes of decorations, looming, promising hours' worth of work. "Oh, would you look at that, its _December._"

She watches him angrily. "I hate you."

"Hard to believe when I find you wrapped around my cock _at least_ three times a week."

Huffing, she opens a box with another flick while she turns her back on him. "I wouldn't say it's _that_ frequent."

His hands find her waist and pull her into an embrace, pewter grey eyes dangerously close to her own syrupy brown ones. "Talk me through last night, then." His voice is quiet thunder.

Her breath hitches. She remembers how she rode him on his silky Slytherin sheets.

She gulps thickly. He notices.

"Draco," _she'd moaned, clear as day, into the silent vacuum Muffilato inflicted against the curtains of his four-poster. Her palms were pressed into his fluffy pillows as her nose brushed the headboard. She was so wet and _fuck _he was hard. They'd fucked in beautiful silence. It had never been this _intense. _Hearing his name spill so deliciously from her lips made him feel starved. He had to see her pleasure, _now. _He'd flipped her over and driven his cock into her, his eyes penetrating hers much further than his body ever could. She took the devil by the horns and thrusted in time with him, running her hands down his arms and back and, well, anywhere she could reach, really. _

"We fucked." She responds flatly. "As always."

_He saw exactly what he was doing to her. And then he was a tall, blond, quivering mess of limbs. _Hermione, _he choked desperately into her neck, pushing himself up to meet her eyes again. Their mouths crashed together. And she'd come. Draco's liquid warmth pumping into her sent her over the edge and she cried out around him. _

"Are you thinking about it?" He murmurs, running his hand under her shirt. She feels his fingertips drag up her ribcage and brush her breast. Her chest burns.

"No." She chokes out, closing her eyes under his touch.

_Their eyes found each other again afterwards. After the world fell apart. After the shards stuck themselves back together. _

_"I should go." She got up. _

"You left." He comments, badly veiling the hurt in his voice.

She looks down, determined. She will hide her pain from him. "You know the rules just as well as I do, so don't play dumb." She spits, removing herself from his grasp.

_There was a Hufflepuff party last year. They'd both drank too much Firewhiskey, Butterbeer, whatever was on offer, really. The reckless youth will drink whatever the fuck they can get their hands on. She brushed past him and he'd grabbed her arm impulsively. Perhaps he could rile up the old swot. "Leaving already, Granger? Knew I could peg you as a party pooper," he laughed mockingly in her face. _

_She yanked her elbow away. _

_"I'm not leaving." She stuck up her nose, eyeing him down angrily. _

_"Going to play a game in the sheets with Weasley, I expect?" He snickered, taking a sip from his goblet. His eyes roamed her outfit. She was in her school uniform still, but she'd loosened her tie and undone the first couple buttons. Her shirt was beginning to untuck itself. _

_Dishevelled Granger certainly beat the usual faultless Granger._

_She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes at the white-haired man. One couldn't really call him a boy anymore. Not with those cheekbones and that jaw structure. She un-crossed her arms. _

_"Even if I was, it's none of _your _business."_

_"So, you're not?" He raised an eyebrow. Leant back on the wall. "I thought you two were the golden, incestuous couple of the school."_

_"Incestuous, you say?" She laughed genuinely, a smile gracing her face. "That's rich, coming from you, Malfoy." _

_A smirk had grown as he watched her, and he shrugged. Hermione found herself wishing he didn't look so endearing. She felt herself being pulled into his orbit and decided that she should probably get some water. She was feeling far off tipsy by now, and it wasn't even that late. The room spun out under her feet a bit. She bit her lip._

_His eyes roamed her face. "It's always the mouth that gives away a drunkard, Granger. Are you intoxicated?" _

_She blinked. "Perhaps."_

_He leant back, nodding. "Explains why you haven't walked away yet."_

_She walked away. _

"Perhaps the rules can be re-written." He murmurs, spinning her around to look into his eyes. He has to show her that he's being earnest. He feels a tension in his throat.

"You know _very well _why we have them." She glares at him, begging him to understand.

"Why?" He questions immediately, searching for any leniency.

She looks away. "Draco, this conversation is not happening."

_"Where are your cronies, Malfoy?" She plonked down to sit with him later that night. A conversation with Draco Malfoy would certainly be interesting, her drunken mind convinced her._

_He rolled his eyes and finished off his liquor, letting the goblet down. She saw silver rings glint on his alluring fingers. Then she saw silver eyes. "You know I'm not flanked by dumb and dumber anymore, so why bother asking?"_

_"I just want to mess with you." She smiled. Really smiled. It wasn't something she'd ever directed towards him before._

_"There are better ways you could be doing that, sweet pea." He winked._

_She raised her eyebrows at him, absolutely prepared to express exactly how his objectification made her feel. Angry. Aggravated. _

_He blinked expectantly, and she realised she'd fallen into his boring trap. He just wanted a reaction, as always._

_She hesitated for a drunken second. _

_Clumsily grabbed his neck. _

_And then Hermione Granger was kissing Draco Malfoy. Out of spite, of course._

"What, to prevent people talking? To prevent my family finding out?" His voice lowers to a growl. "Newsflash, Granger. They're crazy. I try not to run my life around the opinions of unhinged madmen. Sorry about it."

_ Their mouths were locked, his hands were tangled in her hair, and he tasted like heat and dark liquor. She couldn't get enough. Every second was indecent. Appalling. Hateful. _

To this day she still can't figure out why his tongue is the most delicious part. It's currently running up her ear. Her eyes fall closed.

_Finally, she'd pulled away, eyes wide, lips swollen, cunt wet, and life ruined. As always, he smirked. She watched him lick her off his lips. "Granger, you taste like cinnamon." _

_She didn't dare say anything as he leaned into her ear. His lips brushed her cheek and he whispered; "I really, quite like cinnamon." _

_The next morning, alone in her bed, she struggled to remember exactly why she moulded her mouth back onto his._

"Draco, we'll be killed."

"Not if you just stay the night." He tries, his hands still feathering over her skin. "It won't impact anything."

She huffs and pushes all of him away; his tongue, his hands, his chest. "Are you daft?" She questions seriously.

"It _won't_." He repeats with more conviction.

"Sure, but if we get used to sleepovers and lazy mornings together..." Her voice lowers, still stepping further backwards. "Enough time for longer conversations and," she shakes her head sadly, "you know. Becoming _friends _as well as…" Her ankles hit a box of tinsel with a quiet thud. She stops. Sighs

"Lovers." He interjects.

"You know exactly what will happen. And that _can't happen." _The hall creaks around them. Two figures alone, approaching tragedy. Her words reveal a gushing wound.

He looks at her sadly, five meters away but she still hears loud and clear. "It already has."

_She told Draco to meet her on the seventh floor if he was interested in seeing her again. He did. They walked in silence, hearing only their muffled footsteps and alternating breaths. She remembered the smell of freshly fallen snow, in the deep, bitter cold of midnight. It was undeniably an event made for secrecy. They barely closed the door to the room of requirement before she tore off his tie. He took her against the door, then. Without gentleness. She'd already fantasised about this far too many times. _

_And when she filled the place with her lustful moans, she realised fantasy could never replicate reality._

_Afterwards, she let her skirt back down, gave him one last shameless glance, and slipped away into the halls._

She turns away, back to the task at hand. The tree, she remembers, will not assemble itself. She flicks hair off her face. "We fuck and that's it. There's no staying over, there's no friendliness in the hallways, there's no reason for us to even acknowledge each other at all, honestly."

She starts winding tinsel around the tree. Red first, then gold. Blue sapphires and emeralds twinkle in place of tree lights. The rich colours of Hogwarts blend artfully. The sight is truly enchanting.

He sighs, helping her with the shiny, plasticky, _tinselly shit. _He's always hated that. It's dust prone and _fuck _it sets off his allergies. He can feel his nose prickle.

"What do you want from me?" She asks quietly, not looking away from the glimmering lights.

"Whatever you can give." He responds without falter.

_"Give yourself to me." He murmured into her ear as he bent her over a library desk. Blond hair tickled her ear. Impossibly silky. Not as silky as his voice, though. "Naughty Granger, getting fucked in the library. How scandalous." He pulled all the way out, leaving her empty._

_"Please." She'd gasped, pressing her arse against his hips. He teased her slick lips._

_"Beg for it." He demanded gravelly, stroking a palm over her lower back. Assertively._

_Her head fell between her elbows. "Please, Draco_,"_ her voice was rich with need. She'd tasted cherry on his tongue when they kissed, and ever since, the corners of her vision faded._

_And so, he filled her up in one go, pressing his hand over her cries, catching them for her. Holding them safe. _

_That was the first time she cried out his name in ecstasy. _

"Well I can't give you much, so back luck." She refuses to meet his eyes. She knows if she does, she'll regret it. "I can give you tonight. And any other night. That's it. No morning after. No lazy affections."

He feels pathetic. Going back to a woman who can't offer him anything; who refuses to make an empty promise to humour him.

_"Promise me I'm the only one?" She asked him, her eyes searching desperately. She'd seen him talking animatedly to Pansy Parkinson earlier, and to her surprise, rabid jealousy clawed its way up her stomach._

_He was confused. Why was she so worried all of a sudden? _

_He frowned at her. "Why the hell would I want anybody else when I have you?" His fingers trailed down her naked thighs. They were snug around his hips. Merlin, her thighs. He splayed his hands across them, pressing each finger bud deeply into her flesh. _

_"I promise you're the only one." She'd whispered, as if she were hiding the confession from herself. He watched as she sunk back down onto him, filling herself so far that their hips were flush. _

_"Good." He'd finally murmured, pulling her towards his lips. _

"The baubles go on last." He comments feebly, trying to keep the conversation afloat.

"I know," she begins levitating one of what looks like hundreds. He follows suit, spacing them out with care.

Then she probes, why does he have to make it so _complicated_?

She lets her wand rest in her hand, turning to face him.

"Me?" A raised eyebrow.

"Yes. You." She shakes her head, "I ignore the fact that keeping this casual is difficult and painful, and so should you. This war is looming over both our heads."

"It's not here yet." He says simply, continuing the bauble placement.

"Why aren't you _panicking?" _She stresses,_ "_we're on different sides, Malfoy! We'll be forced to fight one another."

He turns to her, his eyes boring into hers sincerely. "You _know, _I'll never hurt you."

"You can't just _promise _that! Or at the very least expect me to believe it! You can't just say these things and act like they aren't _real_. The upsetting certainty of our future is _too _real."

He hasn't looked away for a second, but the severity of his gaze has softened. "Then why don't you think _we're_ real? If _everything else_ is so painfully real, why not us?"

"Because _this," _she flung a hand into the space between then, "only works if we don't admit what's really going on!"

_"This isn't happening again," she said as she shrugged on her robes. The sheets were bunched around Malfoy's hips and he was staring up at her through golden lashes. "This," he murmured, "has already happened three times in the last 40 minutes." His cheeks were still flushed, and the pink complimented his complexion. His lithe frame shifted, and the silk fell a few centimetres. _

_She had to look away. Partly because she couldn't lie to his face, partly because he was so beautiful it almost hurt to look. "Well you'd better burn it into your memory, because it's the last time."_

_He rolled his eyes. "Granger, we've been fucking for months now and it only keeps getting better. You won't be able to hold yourself back." _

_She left without another word. _

_They lasted one torturous week until she approached him in potions. Completely out of character, but she just couldn't spend another second on the other side of the room while he looked like _that. _She'd spent the whole week avoiding him. _

_Some say you can never look bad if you've got a good tailor._

_But Draco's body in the precise cut of his expensive robes was simply too much for her to handle. _

_"Malfoy." _

_He put down the knife grasped in his hand. She admired his perfectly sliced ginger root. Their eyes met. "Granger." _

_She put a hand to her forehead. "Would you take me to Pomfrey? The fumes in here are making me feel lightheaded."_

_Harry and Ron watched the exchange as if she'd gone mad. Malfoy narrowed his eyes at them first, then her, and made a show of being annoyed about it. _

_She was already slick for him when they clumsily fit their bodies into the nearest bathroom stall. _

_"Merlin, Granger," he breathed out as he thrust himself up into her. Her hand was propped against the wall behind his head as she rode him on the toilet seat. "Almost feels like you can't live without me." _

_"Almost feels like you're right," she said after he stuck a finger up her arse. She cried out into his neck, coming around him for the first time in a week. _

_To her it had felt like an eternity._

"Done." She says with triumph. Draco watches the pride on her face as she takes in their accomplishment. "I think we did a good job."

Draco rids the room of rubbish. "Now, it's done. It's perfect."

She smiles at him. He smiles back. These moments when nothing is between them, they hold most precious. But, the constant nagging reminder of their temporality creeps up on her, and she looks away.

His fingers find her jaw and pull her back. He traces her skin with his own.

"Draco." She whispers, eyes already full and threatening to spill. "I can't do this anymore."

It's a rare show of vulnerability. He knows it won't last long. So, he kisses her. He pulls her close and doesn't let go. They melt into each other under the grandeur of their tree.

Finally, they made something real.

* * *

"Hey." Draco murmurs, watching her eyes open blearily. Her hair is splayed all over the place.

She sits up to stretch, his sheets falling to expose her naked back to the chill. Draco's eyes roam over her shoulders, hair, down her spine. He thinks that the green of his sheets suits her perfectly.

She looks over her shoulder and admires him admiring her in the morning light.

_They pulled away from each other, her tears running down both their faces. He'd tasted them in their kiss. _

_"Just stay tonight. Please." He wiped away a fresh drop from her nose. _

_She looked at the floor, surprised to find one last bauble at her feet. It twinkled up at her._

_"I can't." She whispered shakily. _

_"What are you so afraid of?" He asked, not letting her go. _

_"Us." With finality._

_He watched her silently. His face never moved. His breath never hitched. He wasn't surprised. _

_"Granger. Making love surely can't be as painful as a bauble up the arse." _

The sun highlights shades of blond in his hair. "Hello, Draco." She smiles.


	2. Chapter 2

_Fa la la la la, fa la la la. _Hermione groans and covers her ears. If she hears _one more _Christmas carol, she'll fucking _explode. _No merry Christmas, _no _happy new year, no more trumpets or bells or sleighs or _whatever. _She is done.

But she's in Harrolds. And she's _not _leaving until she checks off her mental list.

1\. Golf (quidditch) gloves for Ginny.

2\. A thick scarf for Ron.

3\. Cologne for Harry.

4\. Marbles for Luna (she won't stop complaining about how she lost hers).

5\. Pots and seeds for Neville (he just moved into a new apartment).

Oh _Merlin no. _

Michael Bublé.

6\. A book about architecture for Arthur (he's recently become obsessed with muggle construction).

7\. Top quality Floo powder for Molly (she wants to travel).

That's _all_.

She finds a clock amid the sheer quantity of sickening commercial decorations and panics. The store closes in 20 minutes. She grabs a basket and rushes towards accessories.

It is Christmas Eve.

And Draco somehow finds himself slumming it in _Harrolds_. He usually goes straight to the boutiques, not to this disgusting conglomeration of ready-to-wear marketed towards people who can't afford the real thing. But alas, nothing else is open at eleven at night.

Don't get him wrong, he doesn't _hate poor people_. He just _despises_ crowds and has an affinity for the finer things in life.

Sometimes he forgets he's the heir to a fortune greater than the value of everything in this three-storey monstrosity _combined_.

Anyway, he has to find _something _for his mum. She's really the only person in his life that he feels deserves a gift.

He thinks perhaps a handbag. One of those new snakeskin Givenchy's will do.

Imagine his surprise when he finds a head of brown curls browsing – no, swearing – at the gloves.

"Fucking _hell_, why are there only large and extra-fucking-large left? _Merlin's balls. _These will never fit Ginny._"_ She tucks a curl behind her ear, and he can see her face. He hasn't seen her in a long time.

A pair of small gloves dangles in front of her nose.

Fuck, she's always been blind to what's right in front of her.

He silently strides over and pulls them off the rack, offering them to her. He keeps his eyes trained on his own hands. "Perhaps you're looking for these?"

Neither of them moves. So, he moves his eyes and finds hers. They're wide.

He drops the gloves into her basket.

"Hello," he tries for _some _reaction other than barn owl.

She doesn't look much different, he thinks. Same brown hair, same tanned skin, same brown eyes. Even more gorgeous than he remembers.

"Draco, what are you doing here?"

He hasn't heard her so much as breathe his name since before the war. He's barely seen her since then. She avoided him during trials, though she vouched for his freedom. Which he won.

She disappeared before he could thank her.

He looks away, unable to keep his eyes trained on her face. "Buying a present for mother," he sighs, "obviously my time management has not been ideal, otherwise I would certainly not be spending Christmas eve in a department store."

He wishes he hadn't said so much. He swallowed. "You?"

She lifts her basket meekly, pathetically empty except for the gloves. "Same as you."

He raises an eyebrow. "You don't seem to be succeeding very well."

It's been five years. Too much has happened and yet it all feels so horribly empty.

She puffs out her cheeks. "I hate doing this shit." Her eyes find his also empty basket.

"Me too."

They stand in silence.

"Well. Happy holidays." He murmurs before turning away, fully intending to walk.

She impulsively puts a hand on his shoulder. He freezes. Her eyes race over his form in that fitted white shirt. Her pulse quickens.

Then he turns back around.

She sends him a sad smile. "Two people get a job done easier than one." She throws him a line. A bold line. She doesn't know whether he'll take it or not.

He clears his throat quietly. "Sure, Granger," her last name feels weird on his tongue, "or should I say, Weasley?"

She presses her lips together. "Definitely not."

He snorts bitterly, leaning against a garish green and red display. "War heroes had a tough divorce?"

"War heroes had a publicity stunt." She retorts.

He is silent as she guides them to the scarves. "Though I am planning on buying him a warm scarf. He's always complaining about the cold."

He stays silent while she picks a tartan scarf, then, grabs her hand to stop her putting it into the basket. A tingling of long-lost familiarity.

He has to use all his self-control not to pull her into an embrace. Instead, he comments, "I don't think that would go well with the Weasley DNA." She frowns, so he elaborates, using his other hand to gesture to his own messy blond head. "The hair. It's a shade of red never seen before in nature." Their hands are still clasped. He feels like he can't breathe.

She cocks her head to the side, thinking for a second. "Good," and she throws it atop the crumpled gloves, wrenching her hand away from his. They both notice.

He shoves his into his pocket. "What? Have you got it out for Weasley?"

"Well," she rolls her eyes, "he tried to push the little publicity stunt I just mentioned into something not so public." She shakes her head, curls swinging, then sets her eyes directly into his, "there's no way that was happening."

He feels hot. Why didn't he just walk away when he had the chance? This is too much for him. "Why are you doing this?" He hears himself rasp.

She blinks. "We're just old friends going shopping. What's so bad about that?"

He narrows his eyes, what was molten silver hardening in an instant. "I'm leaving, Hermione."

She sends him a look he can't ignore.

Hurt.

"Why?"

"You can't _seriously _expect me to play this game?"

"What do you mea-"

"We're not _old friends, _Hermione. We carved out a little world together and you ended it. And now, I'm leaving."

"Reality was falling apart around us, Draco! What do you expect?" She pleads desperately in subtext; s_tay. _

This is an entirely inappropriate conversation for _Harrolds_. They've already gotten a stare or two.

Stay, he doesn't.

And it tears her haphazardly patched-together heart out once more.

The same doesn't happen to him. His was still in shreds from the beginning.

_"Shoppers. You have five minutes left before you must pay for your items. We will be closing at midnight. Happy holidays."_

She drops the basket and runs for the thing she needs most.


	3. Chapter 3

Another moment for our tragic lovers. TW: mention of attempted suicide.

* * *

"Draco!" She gasps, running out of the large gold turning doors into the wintry London streets. Christmas lights up the street and snow falls lazily.

She blinks some of it out of her eye as she looks around for his tall dark form. Surely, he hasn't apparated away. It's the first time they've seen each other since, well…

_"Draco." She cried ugly tears down her face. "Draco, Draco, Draco, _Merlin." _She had to keep his name on her tongue. His goddamn beautiful name. She breathed in a shaky breath. "Draco. I'm never seeing you again. I… I have to go. I have to leave. And I know we haven't really been the same lately with you being a death eater and all." She clenched her fists, her eyes flicking down to his covered forearm. He'd only let her see it once. She cried all night. _

_He watched silently, his dark mark writhing painfully under his skin. It did that when he rejected it. He hoped Voldemort couldn't tell. _

_It was doing it so constantly, now. _

_He couldn't process what was happening, really. But he knew she was going up against the most powerful evil wizard of the century. She hadn't told him why or for what, understandably. _

_But he didn't know what he could do about it. His family's lives depended on him. If he deflected in any way, he knew he'd have to watch while Voldemort made his mother and father writhe under the Cruciatus before two flashes of green light lazily spilled from his wand. _

_Draco had already seen him do it too many times to far too many people._

_He was stuck between a rock and a hard place, to put it simply. _

_Then then she was gone, without a final kiss or glance or anything. And neither knew if they'd make it out alive. _

_She was right all along. They'd spent their last months under a delusional haze. They ignored the impending disaster and spent their time drinking in as much of each other as possible with what time they carved out; between him answering to Voldemort and her plotting very real, dangerous ways to murder him._

_Asking her to stay over under the Christmas tree that day was the worst idea he'd ever had. But it was also undeniably his best, most brilliant one. _

"Hermione." A voice floats up from behind her. He's leaning against the entrance.

She takes him in. Same tailored robes. Taller, if it's possible. Older. Gorgeous.

Her eyes prickle painfully.

"Draco." She repeats, no longer desperately searching. Found.

Neither know what to do.

She scratches her forearm anxiously. The scar, to be more precise. _Mudblood. _

He notices and swears under his breath. _Fuck. _

His face slowly crumples, but she doesn't move. So, he does, and then she's being crushed. Her fingers easily find his hair and pull his chin down over her shoulder, wrapping him around her smaller body.

They stay like that. His chest heaves. She feels big, fat, miserable tears fall down his face and onto her neck.

_Bellatrix dragged in three figures, and Draco almost passed out. It was her. He knew immediately. His worst nightmare had just become a reality before his eyes, and if he tried to do anything about it, well, the outcome was obvious. _

_Death. _

_"Keep her alive!" He'd almost screamed. "Voldemort wants her- them, alive." _

_She wouldn't look at him as she cried while Bellatrix shrieked in her face, hurting her. _

_And then he had to watch as her limbs twisted at unnatural angles and she screamed. Merlin. Her screams. Each one made him want to vomit all over the marble floor. His stomach churned unnaturally. His chest burned. His whole body shook. The amount of effort he was exerting to cover his all-consuming pain, to cover their disastrous tracks, to protect them both against the occlumency he felt nudging at his brain, was immense. _

_He watched as his aunt mutilated the woman he loved. How he managed to keep a straight face he'll never know. _

_When the Order stormed in, he wished he could leave with them. But he knew that would be a death wish. A ridiculous idea. _

_Afterwards, in his room, he tried to cut it off. Blood ran down his fingers and into his fist and onto the floor but no matter _how hard_ he hacked and screamed; the dark mark wouldn't stop writhing. It mocked him every second of every damned day. _

_He'd almost died, that day. He wished he did. _

He's shaking, and she pulls back, finding red rimmed eyes and a pained expression.

"I'm sorry. I'm… _fuck."_ He shakes his head, looking down at the icy concrete to collect himself.

Then, he takes her forearm _so delicately. _

She can't, _won't _breathe.

He runs a thumb under the cuff of her coat, barely stroking the jagged _M. _

He feels it, scar tissue terribly healed, probably hurriedly by someone from the order while she bled out as they fled.

_Blood was all over the floor. Red. Glistening. Something he could never, ever see as dirty. It was hers. _

"I'm _sorry._" He says again, eyes searching hers.

"You didn't do it." She whispers.

He clenches his jaw. "Feels like I did."

"You _did not." _Her eyes narrow. "Bellatrix did. Voldemort did. Your parents did. Never _you_."

And she grasps his arm un-gently. He tries to yank it away, but she's pushed up his sleeve already.

She doesn't react to the unrecognisable piece of flesh. Her eyes stare at it hollowly. The mark is still there. It's covered in wide swathes of pearlescent scar tissue. As if he'd tried to peel layers and layers of his own skin off.

"When did you do this?" She whispered, letting his sleeve down and looking into silver eyes anxiously. She still held his arm.

"The night you got yours."

A tragic smile graces her face. It's wobbly at best. "I guess we're matching, then."

"In the most _disgusting _way," he looks away, his whole being tensing before her.

She doesn't remember saying it instead of thinking it. "I miss you."

He looks at her wildly. "Why?"

She searches him, tightening her grip. "Do you miss me?" She can feel his muscles moving. She can see him thinking. She wishes she can kiss him like she used to be able to.

He closes his eyes. She sees his blond eyelashes before he reveals those silver irises under sorrowfully heavy eyelids. "Yes."

"I don't want to, anymore." She exhales, her frosty breath floating away from them.

"How could we possibly… it's too much. It's too late." He frowns.

She lets go of him, looking up to the sky with a heavy sigh, confessing her sorrows to the stars. "Well every day I still feel like I'm drowning. And there's nothing I can do to _not _feel that way," she looks back down to his face, "I've tried everything. The war's over. Everything is okay, but I still can't shake the feeling that it's all still backwards."

"I can't give you what you need." He protests feebly.

"I need to not feel like that. And I don't right now." She swallows. "With you…"

This is not how she expected her evening to turn out.


	4. Final Chapter

Draco doesn't know what to do about the fact that Hermione Granger is in his flat. Sure, he's thought about it a thousand times. What could've been if the war didn't happen. If they weren't thrust against each other in a cruel turn of fate.

She walks around tentatively, taking in the fireplace and the furniture. She likes his taste.

"I enjoy red wine." She says, eyeing his kitchen. Her eyes find his. "Do you?"

He nods and opens a choice cabernet sauvignon, handing her a glass. She invites herself onto his couch and pats the seat next to her. She feels his weight on the cushion as he sits and turns his body towards her, pulling her into his silver gaze with ease.

"What have you been doing since we last saw each other," he murmurs quietly before the fireplace roars to life in front of them. He hasn't moved an inch.

_The battle of Hogwarts was well and truly underway, and Hermione was running the halls, attacking every death eater she saw. She'd long given up on avoiding the unforgivables. She couldn't ignore the glee she felt when Crowley was screaming and writhing on the floor beneath her. She'd been tortured the same way, and she bloody well knew how painful it was. _

_These people were evil, she told herself. They deserved it, she rationalised. They wanted her dead and would kill her within a second if she wasn't vigilant. To make it out of here alive, she'd have to be unrelenting. _

_Looking up from the horrific show before her, she saw a flash of blond and her stomach churned. _

_Draco. _

_Or Lucius. _

_She had to find out. _

_And she ran after it, dodging and weaving through multicoloured ribbons of light that promised either pain or death. _

_She barely saw the door shut as followed. When she entered, she came face to face with someone she hadn't seen in quite some time. Someone who she spent every night thinking, worrying, agonising about. He was here. Alive. _

_"Hermione." Draco breathed, eyes raking over her. Was she hurt? Her hair was pulled back from her face. She had dark circles under her eyes and a look of wild determination. He'd heard that she was running the halls subjecting every death eater she saw to a particularly powerful and painful cruciatus. This, he was happy to hear. _

_She scanned his face. He had a smear of blood on his cheek and dirt was in his hair. Godric, his hair. If they were in any other situation, she would want to run her hands through it. He smelled like battle. The metallic pang of blood, a salty coating of sweat, and rubble from an exploding castle on his cloak. _

_She had to focus. Someone could come in at any moment and kill them both. Wouldn't that be tragic irony. _

_So, she said the first thing that came to her head. "Don't die." She choked out. "Please." _

_He sent a heart-breaking smirk. "I've lasted this long." _

_Someone screamed outside. Blood curdling. He gripped his wand harder._

_She started to panic. "Draco." He looked around worriedly. "Draco! Look at me." She grabbed his jaw and set his face to hers. _

_"You can't die, because I love you, okay? You cannot. And afterwards, we'll see each other again, and it'll be okay." She reassured herself, images of the worst flashing through her head._

_He watched her and shook his head, removing her hands. "Hermione." He breathed in a long breath. "Hermione, it won't be okay, I-"_

_A huge explosion. _

_"I have to go." He finished. _

_She cursed, glancing at the door that shuddered on its hinges. Before she could protest, he'd brushed past her, murmuring in her ear that he loved her, too, and that she had to be safe as he went. The hem of his coat disappeared, and the door slammed shut. _

_She never found him in the great hall._

"Lawyer at the ministry. Dead boring," she sighs, "but enough work to keep me busy."

He drinks the wine, seeing her comfortably seated on his couch. "I work at an apothecary," he says simply.

He nods. "Always had a knack for potions."

"Why do you need to be kept busy?" he probes, taking another sip.

She shrugs, "don't you?"

"Well, to distract myself from the fact that years of my life and my family was stolen by a fucking psychopath, yes."

"Well there's your answer," she replies bluntly.

He nods. "Bit of a stupid question, then."

They drink. "Are you seeing anyone?" She asks, dreading the wrong response.

"Well, I'm looking at you right now." He raises an eyebrow, a grin growing on his face as she laughs.

"I'll take that as a no, then." She pauses, searching his face, "me either."

A spring of mistletoe appears above them with a flourish, and she sends him a sneaky smile, taking responsibility as she sets down her glass.

She leans into his ear and whispers, "Merry Christmas, Draco."

He captures her lips in his. A well overdue reunion.


End file.
